


I'm not scared anymore

by Lakritzwolf



Series: Trust and Courage [1]
Category: Mortal Instruments - City of Bones, The Mortal Instruments (Movies), Young Hercules
Genre: Angst, M/M, off-screen dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 23:49:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9408155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lakritzwolf/pseuds/Lakritzwolf
Summary: Written for the GatheringFiKi WinterFRE2017 - Prompt 147: Young Iolaus is in trouble. He’s held prisoner in a galley, condemned to row to exhaustion every day. Next to him, a wild mysterious brunet is also chained. Will they be able to team up and escape?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Khim_Azaghal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khim_Azaghal/gifts), [islandkate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/islandkate/gifts).



> (Title song: _I'm not scared anymore_ by Chris de Burgh)
> 
> * * *
> 
> Living as a galley slave is no fun. I tried to keep this as non-graphic as possible. There is some angst, and there is also a pointer at dub-con, although that happens completely off-screen.

* * *

  
_When I'm lying in the arms of the man I love_  
_I'm completely at peace with the world_  
_And the dark clouds around me that often surround me_  
_Just fall away into the night, I'm not scared anymore_ ^

_When I can't sleep at night and I just stare at the moon ___  
_Listening to your beating heart_  
_To know that you're with me, and the love that you give me_  
_Keeps me from falling apart, I'm not scared anymore_

_____When I think about the ways of the other world_  
_And all the ones who've gone before_  
_Well I believe they can see us, believe they are with us_  
_Hear every word that we speak, I'm not scared anymore_  
  


* * *

**The water** splashed into his face, cold and merciless, but before he could even utter a sound of protest, another load of ice cold water washed over him. Quite a bit of it ended up in his already open mouth, and he almost choked on the ice-cold brine. He coughed and gasped, and the salty water also burned in his eyes when he tried to open them. He blinked into a bright sun and could make out some shadowed forms outlined against the sharp light.

Then several other sensations reached his still somewhat addled brain. He was lying on his back. The figures were looking down at him. There was wood under him. And he knew that because he could feel the coarse wood grain against the skin of his back.

But the worst feeling was that his hands were shackled together.

Before Iolaus could even make sense of any of this, a rough hand dug into his hair and jerked, and with a yelp of pain he sat up and, because he had no choice, let himself be hauled onto his feet.

He still had no idea what had happened and what was happening to him, but his mind registered a few more details around him now. He was on a ship. The rigging creaked and the deck below him rocked which meant they were at sea.

The men standing around him, all of them sailors, were giving him greedy, cruel looks and he looked down at himself in shock. His clothes were gone, but he was – barely decently – covered with a loincloth. His stomach turned at that realisation. How had he ended up naked on a ship somewhere out at sea?

“Where...”  
A slap right across his face made his cheek sting and his eyes water. “Silence.” The man who had spoken was a burly man with greying hair and one blind eye. “You only speak when spoken to.”  
“But...”

The slap that he got this time had him reel backwards.

“I said you only speak when spoken to. One more time and my lady will kiss you.”

Everyone around him chuckled, and Iolaus did not need to be a clairvoyant to know that whoever his lady was, he would not want to be kissed by her. So he only nodded.

“So listen here, pretty boy, because I will say all of this only once.”

The one-eyed man took a step forward, invading Iolaus’ personal space, and stood so close Iolaus could not only smell his foul breath but also see the fine web of scars across his blind eye.

“Whoever you think you are, whatever you think you are, you can forget about it. Because from now on, you are no one. You will do as you are told, or you will regret the day you were born. Understood?”  
Iolaus nodded, too afraid to do anything else.  
“You will not speak. To no one. Unless we ask you. Understood?”  
He nodded again.  
“Good. And just so you know what we are talking about, this here is my lady.”

Iolaus wasn’t really surprised that he produced a three-tailed whip. He was about to nod when the sailor lashed out and struck him right across the chest. He staggered back with a grunt of pain and surprise.

“So. This time she blew you a little peck. To welcome you, so to say. When she kisses you, then everyone is going to hear you moan and scream.”

His skin was tingling as if he had touched nettles, but he knew it would get worse in a few minutes. So he just bit his tongue.

After stuffing the whip into his belt, the one-eyed sailor grabbed his arm and dragged him along across the deck and towards a hatch down into the hull. Iolaus balked; he didn’t want to go down there because he knew once this ship had swallowed him, he would never see daylight again. But the sailor, having anticipated resistance, simply kicked him into the back of his knees. With his legs folding away under him and his hands in shackles Iolaus lost his balance and went down the hatch in a flurry of limbs, and he landed very painfully on the rough wooden boards of the hull.

The sailor was chuckling as he climbed down the ladder.

Iolaus had hit his head on a beam when going through the hatch, and he was still seeing stars when the sailor grabbed his hair again to haul him onto his feet. He blinked a few times to clear his vision, and his heart almost stopped for a moment.

Rows of oars, each pulled by two slaves shackled to the benches upon which they sat. The ship wasn’t huge, eight pairs of oars, and Iolaus was pushed forward past the rows of slaves, most of which didn’t even look up at him. Towards the prow of the ship was an oar where only one man sat, and the sailor pushed him onto the bench next to him, knelt down and with a few quick, practices moves, shackled Iolaus’ ankles to the bench.

“This is your life now,” the sailor said to him. “You row from sunrise to sundown. You get water and food as and when we see fit. Twice a day we pass a bucket and if you have to piss more than that, that’s not our problem. You row all you can. If I see you slacking, my lady will kiss you. If you talk to any of the others, my lady will kiss you and the man you spoke to. Now, row.”

He left, and somewhere above a drum started beating. As one, the slaves around him started pulling their oars, and Iolaus took the one before him. He cast a quick look at the other man who was sitting close to the hull while he himself had the seat close to the keel. He was taller than Iolaus and dark-haired; he also had dark eyes and impressive eyebrows.

Had things been different Iolaus would have found him quite handsome, but only one angry look cast at him out of dark hazel eyes reminded him of his fate, and he closed his eyes and pulled.

* * *

Iolaus was used to physical exertion. But none of his strength and dexterity he had worked so hard to build in the academy helped him here at the oar. It was sheer physical force, just pulling with all your strength and full weight, and by the time the sun went down he was so exhausted and in so much pain he could hardly move anymore. And he hadn’t even been at the oar for a full day.

The slaves were unchained, under the watchful eyes of the one-eyed sailor and a few others bearing spiked clubs and fierce scowls. Towards the stern was a barred-off partition in the hold into which the slaves were now herded, and after a chain was pulled through the manacles at their ankles, the door was locked.

Iolaus dropped his head against the wall. The coarse wood grain was chafing his back, but the sensation vanished in comparison to how much the muscles in his back and his arms were burning. And his hands...

He looked down at his hands that were lying palm up in his lap. It was already dark down here, what little daylight there was left that fell through the small portholes only created a murky twilight. But he could see the raw and bleeding skin well enough. Tomorrow would be torture.

His throat constricted, and for a moment Iolaus had to fight the urge to bawl like a baby and cry for his mama. He still had no idea how he had gotten here. The last thing he was sure of was coming to Athens with Hercules and Jason and browsing the stalls at the marketplace. They had lost each other and Iolaus had gone back to the inn.

He had met a few men who had invited him for a drink.

And the next thing he remembered was waking up with a bucket of seawater in his face.

Hercules. Jason. They had no idea where he was. What had happened to him. Or would they? They would have realised at one point they had been separated. They would go back to the inn. They would find out he had been drinking with strangers and vanished after that, wouldn’t they?

They would start looking for him.

Wouldn’t they?

They had to. They had to realise what had happened. They had to find him. They had to get him out of here!

Despite his exhaustion, Iolaus hardly found any rest. The tall and dark-haired stranger next to him seemed to sleep, but it was hard to tell in the darkness. Iolaus pulled up his legs, making the chains rattle, and the chains rattled again as he lifted his arms to sling them around his knees. He dropped his head onto his forearms and begged Zeus to give his son a sign.

* * *

Towards mid-morning, blood was dripping down Iolaus’ wrists and fingers. By that time he had also been kissed twice by the one-eyed sailor’s lady. He had heard him being called Kleitos by the other sailors, and he promised himself that he would wipe that grin clean off his face one day. He would get rid of these chains, and he would push that cursed whip so far up his ass that he could pull it out again through his nose.

Angry thoughts about freedom and revenge had vanished by noontime however, evaporated like snow in the sunshine. The made a pause for the slaves to drink, but not more than one scoop each, and the bucket made the round after that. No one seemed to care, and no one looked at him when Iolaus used it, shame burning his face. His silent companion looked pointedly away; the only thing he could do. It was more than nothing, and Iolaus was grateful for the tiny bit of dignity it left him. At least he hadn’t been forced to piss himself; he was sweating too much for that.

Kleitos smeared some stinking brown paste onto his hands before they started rowing again. It burned like fire and made it even worse, but after a while the pain receded. It didn’t help anything against his screaming muscles, and the next time they came with water Iolaus simply couldn’t lift his arms anymore.

Kleitos quickly made him realise that he could lift his arms, after all.

He could feel the oar move as he closed his hands around it, but he could hardly move his arms. But the oar moved anyway, and then he realised that his dark companion was pulling it harder than before. Muscles bunched and bulged as he rowed, and he kept staring straight ahead.

Iolaus wondered how long he had been here. But before he could think any further Kleitos re-appeared in his view, and he did all he could to at least look like he was rowing. Thanks to the nameless man next to him the overseer didn’t look at him twice, and this time passed him by without using his whip.

That evening, as they were herded towards the stern to be chained there for the night, Iolaus could hear a few of the sailors make joking bets about him and wonder if he was going to make it. They called him a pretty boy and one of them said he was going to feed the fish within the next three to four days.

His whole body was one fiery pain as he curled up in the hold after being chained to the wall. He would most certainly feed the fish within a few days. He had no idea how he could even lift his arms tomorrow, he had no idea how he would be able to even lift his head. Kleitos would take immense pleasure out of taking the skin off his back, and then they would throw him overboard. 

Even if Hercules had any idea where he was, even if Jason would take his father’s entire fleet to come after him... they would come too late.

He curled up as much as the chains would allow him to and with the pain and exhaustion being stronger than him, he couldn’t stop the tears.

“Two days,” one of the other slaves whispered into the darkness and spat out. “Three. Then we’ll all be doing the work for one more again.”

“Silence.”

The word was a harsh growl, almost feral, and it came from directly next to him. Iolaus couldn’t care less, however. The slave was right; he would be dead within a day or two.

“He won’t hold for more...”  
“Even if he does, it is none of your business.” It was Greek, but it sounded strange and stilted, and he had a terrible accent. “I pull his oar, not you.”

Iolaus wanted to feel grateful for it, but the truth was, there was no need to defend him. He fought to remain silent as he shouldn’t make any noise to keep the others awake, but he didn’t stop his tears.

A hand rested on his shoulder.

“Fight,” the low voice said in its terrible accent. “Do not give up.”  
“But I...” Iolaus lifted his head again and looked at the dark-haired stranger.  
“We all were like that when we came here. No one is born a galley slave.”  
“But I can’t...”  
“You can, and you will. You will row, and you will grow stronger, and one day...”  
“Shut up!” Another slave hissed. “Talk like that is dangerous! Even thinking about it is dangerous!”

“I am the most dangerous thing on this cursed ship,” the dark haired stranger snarled. “And if not for these shackles we would all be free by now.” As if in demonstration he tore at the chains holding his hands together, but it was solid forged iron.

“Sure,” another voice sounded from the dark. “Tell them that, why don’t you.”

The only answer was a feral snarl.

“You have to fight,” the foreigner then said to Iolaus. “We will be free again. All I need is one moment of weakness.”  
“It’s not going to happen,” Iolaus whispered back. “We’re too heavily watched.”  
“Maybe. But everyone has a weakness.”  
“Yes, but we can’t make use of any.”

This time there was no answer.

“How long does it take to die if I just...”  
“Stop drinking? They will not let you.” The dark-haired man looked down at him. “They cannot easily replace a rower. They will force-feed you, and punish you for it. They will use every cruelty they can think of to break you to make you row. Do not let them.”

Iolaus stared at his raw and bleeding hands.

“Strength,” the stranger said. “All our hands looked like that. We are all still alive. Just row. Just live.”  
“What for?”  
The dark eyes came to rest on him. “Life.”

Iolaus stared straight ahead. There was no hope, so why would he want to live like this just to be alive? He just wanted to be dead already.

* * *

But he was still alive with sunrise. Iolaus stared out of the porthole as the slaves were unshackled and watched a seagull swoop past. Kleitos found his tear incredibly amusing but Iolaus was beyond caring at that point. The barely scabbed skin on his palms was rubbed raw again within moments after he had started rowing, and the tears just rolled down his cheeks as the blood dripped down his fingers.

He could feel the dark-haired foreigner pull the oar for him all day. Kleitos didn’t notice he wasn’t rowing.

The urge to just be able to die to have this over with battled with the urge to live and find a way out of here, and every time Kleitos walked past Iolaus kept eying the large key ring hanging from the overseer’s belt. It just dangled there right within his reach, but even if his hands hadn’t been shackled, he couldn’t have taken it. Sometimes he felt Kleitos was parading the keys there in front of everyone’s nose on purpose.

The nameless stranger next to him pulled the oar, and Iolaus could only hang on. But he did hang on.

He had starved on the streets as a child, he had learned to steal and how to fight (and worse) to survive. And that small spark if iron will that had made him hang on when all hope had seemed lost now showed itself again. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, and kept thinking of ways to get out of here.

_...if not for these shackles we would all be free by now..._

What was there really to the dark stranger’s words? He would likely never find out. He had inspected the locks; they were solid forged iron but large and crude, and he would have picked them with his eyes closed if he had had a lock pick. Or a small knife. As it was, he didn’t even have a wooden splint and the locks might as well have been made from a titan’s bones locked by three divine spells.

All he needed was a small metal pin, really. Not longer than his little finger.

He might as well wish for the moon to sail down and carry him home.

* * *

The stranger pulled his oar, and Iolaus kept his eyes on the back of the man before him. He had been flogged more than once, and not just to make a point. Iolaus had felt the whip a few times but it had never broken his skin, while the back before him was crisscrossed with dark pink lines. Sometimes he couldn’t stand the sight and looked down; sometimes he intentionally kept his eyes there, telling himself over and over again that this would never be him.

* * *

With the stranger next to him pulling the oar, Iolaus’ hands got a chance to heal. Slowly, bit by bit, but at one point they stopped bleeding and didn’t start again. Iolaus had lost count of the days by then.

During that time they had been docked twice, but every night in port they had not only been shackled down in the hold but also been guarded by several armed sailors. There was no escaping that ship.

Iolaus had no idea what harbour it was this time, and the thought that Hercules or Jason might walk right past the ship without knowing he was inside drove him mad. He could see the light in the window of a building when looking out of the small porthole. There were people there. Families. Friends. Comrades. They were laughing, eating, drinking, singing songs, telling stories...

“Do not look,” the dark, low voice next to him whispered. “Do not listen.”  
“They are people,” Iolaus whispered back, his voice thick and clogged and shaky. “They are allowed to be people and laugh and sing and have names.”

A few howling drunks staggered past outside, singing and yowling at the top of their lungs. A jug fell onto the cobblestones and shattered. Iolaus thought of Cara’s inn and tried to swallow a sob.

“Luke.”

He wasn’t sure he had really heard it and lifted his head again. In the darkness, the stranger’s eyes reflected a bit of the light falling through the tiny porthole.

“What?”  
“Luke.”  
“What does that mean?”  
There was a huff of breath that could have been a chuckle. “It is my name.”  
“Oh.”

And then it hit him.

“Iolaus,” he whispered back.

It felt so strange, all of a sudden. He hadn’t heard his name in so long. It might have just been a week, or two weeks, or a month. But he had a name. And the stranger – _Luke_ – had reminded him of it. They had names, they were persons. And that was the last bit the slavers could not take away from them.

* * *

They crossed in fair winds for the next days, and the galley slaves were brought on deck in small groups to work up there. Swabbing the deck, repairing nets and cloth, and also cleaning a load of fish that the sailors hauled on board.

After so long a time in the murky twilight of the hull the sun burned his eyes, and because of the shackles he couldn’t just shield them. It took Iolaus a while to get used to sunlight and once he could, he stared across the deck and over the railing. There was water as far as the eye could see. So even if he would manage to escape the guards and jump overboard, he would never be able to reach land, shackles or no shackles.

He and Luke were kneeling next to each other repairing knots in a net when someone behind them said: “Where did we pick that one up?”

It was Kleitos who replied. “Athens, Lord Gaios.”  
“Who sold him?”  
“Eukleides, Lord.”  
“Hmm.”

Footsteps came closer and a pair of expensive red shoes appeared in Iolaus’ view.

“You.” One of the shoes nudged him. “Get up.”

Swallowing hard, Iolaus got to his feet, a gut-wrenching terror fighting with a ridiculous sliver of hope for a moment. The man, fat and richly and tastelessly dressed and bearing a large pendant proclaiming him a member of a merchant’s guild, looked him up and down for a moment.

“Show me your hands.”

Iolaus held out his hands, and the merchant took one and inspected his palms. Then he dropped the hand and took a few strands of Iolaus’ hair.

“Eukleides, you say?”  
“Yes, Lord.”  
“The old stuttering idiot has no idea of the value of anything.” The merchant gave Iolaus an oily smile and looked at Kleitos again. “This one here. Don’t damage him. If you have to discipline him, don’t break the skin.”

Technically, Iolaus should have felt joy and relief. Looking at the merchant, who had to be the owner of the galley, these words only made his terror worse.

“Yes, Lord Gaios,” Kleitos said grumpily. “So you are selling him again?”  
“Eukleides is an idiot,” the merchant Gaios said. “Look at him. Look at that hair, like gold. Those blue eyes. I can get a fortune for him in Cairo.”  
“Cairo?”  
“Yes, Cairo. Any brothel keeper in the palace quarter will beg me to take his gold.” The merchant tugged at a strand of Iolaus’ hair, ignoring the look of abject horror. “Set course south. This one alone will be worth the journey.”

He let go of Iolaus’ hair and left, but Kleitos didn’t have to push him down again. Iolaus slowly sank to his knees and stared straight ahead.

“Work,” Kleitos said gruffly.

Iolaus picked up the net again, but his fingers were frozen.

“Do as I say,” the overseer growled and towered over him. “I know a hundred ways to let you feel pain without leaving any trace on your soft and precious skin. I can give your perky ass to every single man on this ship if I feel like it.”

It wasn’t the thread that did it but the nudge of an elbow into his arm that tore Iolaus out of his stupor. He forced his fingers to obey him, and watched them tie knots together as if they belonged to someone else.

They were fed and watered on deck that day before being locked away down in the hold again. Until then, Iolaus had somehow managed to keep himself upright and do as he was told, but now, as the gate was locked and the hatch to the deck above fell shut, he broke.

He was long past the point of being ashamed of tears by then, and he didn’t care if he sounded like a lost little boy. He didn’t care about the others and their snide remarks.

“Will you just stop,” Luke snarled at one point, and the way he said it made everyone shut up very quickly. “I want to see your faces upon being told you will be sold into a brothel in Cairo.”  
“A brothel?” One of the slaves snorted. “Is that all?”  
“All?” Luke shifted, and Iolaus could feel a warm and large hand rest on his upper arm.  
“Luke,” he whispered hoarsely. “Let them...”  
“All?” Luke went on, as if he hadn’t heard. “To be forced to live...”  
“Warm, dry, well fed and without hard work?” The other slaves snapped back. “Just take it up my ass a few times a day for nothing?”  
“I see you have no idea what a brothel is, then.”  
“Why, you little...”

The chains rattled and clanked as Luke quite apparently meant to jump at the other man but couldn’t. “You have no idea about his fate!” He snarled, and his voice had a low, dangerous growling undertone that made the other man shut up. “ Being warm, fed and dry? These places starve their whores so they keep their shape! Is that a fair return for being raped each and every day?”  
“And they also give them opium to smoke so they don’t care,” someone else said. It was almost gentle, and clearly directed at Iolaus. “Believe me, you won’t care about anything.”

Iolaus couldn’t draw any comfort from those words. He only wished, desperately so, that he had taken his chance to jump overboard. He would be caught in Poseidon’s net by now, but he wouldn’t end his life a whore. Not only would he never see any of his friends again and never be free again, he wouldn’t even own his body anymore.

The hand that had been resting on his arm moved up and towards his back and rested between his shoulders. Long, strong fingers dug into the back of his neck. It was a weak attempt of comfort, but it was a comfort. Just a friendly touch. Just someone who actually cared. Despite himself, Iolaus crawled a little closer.

And then the arm closed around him and pulled, and suddenly he found himself enveloped by two strong and muscular arms, held against a broad, furred chest.

Luke smelled like any man unwashed for too long, strong and sharp and salty, but underlying that was something earthy and musky and feral that made Iolaus think of the fur of a wolf he had once touched on a market.

The hatch opened and Luke quickly pushed him off again. It was Kleitos, and he unlocked the gate, came in and unlocked Iolaus’ ankles.

“Get up,” he said.

Iolaus cast one last desperate glance at Luke. He turned away however before he could see his hazel eyes flash to amber for the duration of a heartbeat.

Iolaus had no choice but to follow, and once up on deck, Kleitos grabbed the chain that bound his hands together and dragged him along until they reached the captain’s cabin. He knocked, and Gaios opened the door.

“Ah, yes. Bring him in.”

Iolaus had no idea why he was here, but he was sure that the table laid with food had nothing to do with it. Kleitos pushed him into a corner and exchanged a few words with Gaios that were too low for Iolaus to understand. But after another nod, he walked over to Iolaus again, hauled him onto his feet and unlocked the manacles around his wrists.

“Now,” Gaios said. “There is only one door, and it leads straight onto the deck. There are several men out there who stand guard and listen for any suspicious sound. So do not get any funny ideas.”

Iolaus shook his head.

“You might think that you could take me with you, but you are only one, and I am armed as well. Plus, a rebellious slave will be keelhauled and I know from experience that Kleitos likes to do it fast, so he can do it several times until you are finally dead. So you better behave.”

Iolaus nodded and lowered his eyes.

Gaios closed the door after ushering Kleitos outside and smiled.

“Now, I am sure you are asking yourself why I summoned you.”  
Iolaus nodded.  
“Well, you are neither deaf nor dumb, so you know I have plans to sell you in Cairo.”  
Iolaus gritted his teeth and nodded again.

“So my dear boy...” Now Gaios stepped closer and took a strand of Iolaus’ hair again to inspect it. “I will do so, but I intend to... sample the wares, if you will.”

So that was it. He should have known. Just a taste of what his life would be. Just get his body taken from him. Completely, and forever.

Gaios was either oblivious or, more likely, completely indifferent to Iolaus and his anguish. He walked over to the table and took an apple, then took a small knife from his belt and carved the apple into slices.

After weeks of nothing but smoked, salted fish and hard tack the sight of a slice of apple made Iolaus drool like a dog. With his eyes glued to the slice of white, crispy, sweet and juicy apple that vanished behind the merchant’s fleshy lips he felt like an animal already.

“You want a piece of apple?” Gaios asked benevolently and held another slice out to him.

Iolaus was trying to hang on to what remained of his pride, but only until the smell of the apple hit his nostrils. Then he nodded and Gaios held the slice out to him so Iolaus could eat it from his fingers. The taste of the apple, tart and sweet and fresh, was better than any orgasm he had ever had. Apparently his facial expression had betrayed him as Gaios chuckled fondly.

“So... I promise you a whole apple. If you are... a good boy.”

Iolaus eyed the table and then he looked back at Gaios. He knew exactly what was happening and what Gaios was trying to do to him. And he also knew that he had little means to resist. And after all, once he was in the hands of a brothel owner, there was no resistance left anyway. This wasn’t about choice. It was letting them break him or going down on his own. He could stop resisting now, or be broken later. Let them break you or break yourself.

A choice between pest and cholera.

It was then that his eyes fell onto the waistcoat that encased the merchant’s prominent stomach, held together by a large, thick brooch. Not gold, he wasn’t wealthy enough by far, but not brass, either. Iolaus’ eyes, trained by being a thief and pickpocket for so long, recognised solid bronze when he saw it.

He eyed the large brooch and the pin that was almost as long as his little finger with a dry throat and a racing heart.

Then he looked up at Gaios and lowered his eyelids.

“I am a very good boy, Master,” he said in a meek voice. “I know how to please a man.”  
“Do you, now...” Gaios hooked his thumbs into his belt. “Really?”  
“Yes,” Iolaus said eagerly and nodded, licking his lips. “I have served men before to earn my keep, I know how to please a man. I really do.”  
“Well...” The fat merchant adjusted his crotch.

Then Iolaus stepped closer, suppressed a shudder and ran his hands slowly down the merchant’s chest.

“I know how to please you, Master,” he whispered, and lowered himself onto his knees.

* * *

The slaves sat and waited in silence, and no one spoke.

It was one thing to talk about brothels and the prospect of food and a bed when you were locked up here, and quite another to see one of their ranks being taken away to get used for the master’s pleasure.

Luke had strained against his chains until his wrists were bleeding, and by now he was sitting back against the wall, his hands hanging limply down.

All eyes wandered towards the hatch as it opened, and they all silently stared at Iolaus who was dragged along again by Kleitos. He unlocked the gate, pushed Iolaus down and shackled him against the wall.

“My turn next,” he said with an unpleasant grin and left them again.

Iolaus sat still and didn’t move until well after the hatch had closed again. Then he slowly bent forward as if he meant to heave, but instead he just opened his mouth and something large and heavy hit the wooden boards with a dull clatter.

He took a few deep breaths, fighting the urge to hurl the contents of his stomach as far away as he could, but managed to keep himself together. The heaving subsided and he reached out and took the brooch.

“Luke,” he whispered.  
“Yes.”

He shuffled closer, and he could see Luke’s eyes shine in the darkness when realisation sunk in.

It wasn’t the best of tools. It had the wrong shape and not really the right size, and it was awkward to use because he couldn’t remove the pin from the ungainly brooch. It wasn’t iron either, and since bronze is softer than iron he had to be very careful as he had to pick more than one lock to free Luke from his shackles.

He started on Luke’s left ankle. In addition to the less than optimal tool he was also hampered by his own shackles, and a few times he was close to breaking the pin, and his face was wet with sweat when the lock finally gave.

_Click_

A gasp of relief escaped both him and Luke and they shuffled around so Iolaus could reach his right ankle too.

The angle was more difficult and the lock almost jammed. Only a lot of careful wriggling got the pin loose again. Then it caught and Iolaus held his breath.

_Click_

Luke had quickly shaken the manacles off and now held out his hands to him.

This should be easier; the locks were smaller and Luke’s wrists easier to reach.

He inserted the pin and pushed. The lock refused to give. He pushed a bit harder, and nothing happened. He took the pin out again and wiped his hand on the sparse fabric of his loincloth. He inserted it again and it got stuck.

“Slow,” Luke whispered. “Take a few breaths and calm down.”

Iolaus did so and took a few very deep breaths.

Then he took the brooch in a different angle and pulled, infinitely slow, carefully and with bated breath to keep his fingers steady. The pin came free, and his breath escaped him in a huff. He inserted it again.

_Click_

“Last one,” Luke whispered. “Do not let your nerves get the better of you.”

Iolaus nodded and took several more deep breaths to calm himself. He inserted the pin. But he realised at that moment that after fighting against iron for so long, the bronze pin was beginning to give. It was already a little bit bent. A trickle of sweat ran down his forehead and he had to repeatedly blink it out of his eyes.

The pin got stuck again, and it bent further when Iolaus tried to wriggle it free.

“Not now,” he whispered and tears forced themselves out of his eyes. “Not now... please, not now...”  
“Calm,” Luke whispered back and reached out to brush a few locks of hair from Iolaus’ cheeks. “Calm.”

Iolaus went still and tried to calm his breathing. Tried to stop thinking. No thinking. His fingers knew their job. His fingers didn’t know this was his last chance. So he closed his eyes and let his instincts take over.

The pin bent. It wedged itself a bit more. It bent. It slipped....

_Click_

He dropped the brooch with a sob and fell forward, barely catching himself on his hands. Next to him, Luke jumped up with a triumphant growl.

“So,” one of the other slaves said in a shaky voice. “What now? What are you going to do? How are you going to free us?”

Luke had just stepped free of the tattered loincloth and looked back over his shoulder. His eyes were gleaming in the darkness.

“Black Magic,” he said. “I am a skin changer.”

In the darkness, Iolaus could hardly see anything. Luke’s form was barely outlined against the wan moonlight outside, and he could hear his growls and just could see how his outline bent over and changed its shape. Into what, he couldn’t say.

All of them jumped and almost screamed when whatever creature was now there in Luke’s place threw itself against the gate with a bellow. Metal groaned and screeched. He did it again, and again. The gate began to bulge outward, but they could also hear shouts of alarm coming from above. 

The creature threw itself one last time at the gate and it finally broke in the hinges and the dark creature pushed it aside. 

Alerted by the noise the sailors up on deck came running towards the hatch, but now the beast stood poised and ready. As soon as it opened the creature jumped and tore the first man’s throat out as it pushed through the hatch.

The slaves down in the hull huddled back in fear. They were chained to the walls in a confined space, and there was a monster out there. And it was after blood. None of them, Iolaus included, had any idea if there was enough of the man left inside the mind of the monster to keep it from killing them all.

A high-pitched scream of terror up on deck was cut short very abruptly and very finally. There were more than a dozen sailors up there, all of them armed, but all they could hear down here were screams. That, and the growls and howls of the beast. It was beyond imagination how terrible the creature had to be to take out so many armed men just like that.

Screams and footsteps and growls. And then... silence.

The hatch opened again and Luke hurried down the ladder, the overseer’s key ring in one hand and a burning torch in the other.

After hanging the torch into a ring on the wall he unchained them, one by one, and the men got up and stared at their bare wrists and ankles with either tears streaming down their cheeks or laughing in incredulous joy, mostly both.

They crawled up the ladder, cautiously and carefully, and they stood there not knowing what to say or to think. Dead, mangled bodies scattered the deck and there was blood everywhere.

“By the gods,” one of them finally whispered. “What kind of monster did this?”  
“The one that saved us all!” Iolaus snapped at him. “We were never in any danger!”  
“You were,” Luke said and knelt down next to one of the dead sailors to inspect his gear. “You were in grave danger.”  
“But not from you,” Iolaus replied.  
Luke looked up with a smile. “No. Not from me.”

None of the thirty-two slaves had anything more than a tattered loincloth, and there were only fourteen sailors. Some of them had spare shirts or breeches however, and those clothes were distributed as fairly as possible. But what the ship had was cloth and sewing tools, and so they could all cover themselves decently again, even if it wasn’t right now.

Iolaus, now wearing rough, homespun breeches but still barefoot and shirtless, had looked at the various dead sailors in distaste. It wasn’t so much the dead bodies that bothered him, nor were it the wounds that bespoke of their gruesome deaths. But he had hated those men when they were still alive. And while he normally hated killing, right now he was happy they were dead.

He found Kleitos, his chest torn open and his heart ripped out. Personally, Iolaus thought that he should have been strangled with his whip. He gave the dead body a nudge with his foot and hoped he would burn in Hades.

In the end, he realised that he hadn’t seen Gaios among the dead.

“He locked and barricaded himself into the cabin,” Luke said when he asked. “I wanted to leave him to you.”

Iolaus looked at the locked door for a long moment. But nothing he could do to Gaios would give anything of that back what he had taken. His death wouldn’t undo anything.

“Whoever wants to kill him...” Iolaus looked over his shoulder. “I won’t cry when he’s dead, but I don’t like killing. It won’t make a difference. It undoes nothing.”

One of the men, the one with the scarred back, now picked up a sword from the hand of a dead sailor and headed purposefully for the cabin. He hammered his fist on the door.

“Lord Gaios!” He yelled. “The beast is gone!”

Seconds later the door got unlocked and the moment it opened a crack, the man pushed inside and the scream of terror was cut off before it had fully emerged.

In grim satisfaction the former slaves then tossed the bodies of their former tormentors overboard and gathered together to plan how to proceed. Quite a few of the men were sailors themselves, captured and then sold into slavery by pirates, and so they would be able to head home to Greece.

“You,” the scarred man then said to Iolaus. “What was that thing you used to pick his locks?”  
“A brooch.” Iolaus crossed his arms.  
“A brooch?” The other man laughed and shook his head. “How on earth did you get that?”

Iolaus took a deep breath. “You know,” he said. “He wanted to sample the wares, as he said. He offered me an apple as reward, too. And then I saw the brooch on his waistcoat.”  
“And how did you get it?”  
“I’ve been living as a thief and pickpocket for most of my childhood,” Iolaus replied.  
“But...”  
“When I saw it I knew that was my only chance,” Iolaus went on, somewhat sharply. “So I just faced him and offered to... instead of taking it up my ass, I offered to take him into my mouth, so I could get close enough to take it.”

There was a moment of stunned silence.

Then the scarred man bowed his head. “And your sacrifice has saved us all.”

Iolaus bit his lips, but then he nodded.

There was hardly any wind that night so they would have to go back to the oars, or some of them at least. But this time, they were doing it for themselves, and to get home. One of the sailors now found Gaios’s navigation equipment and they set course north-east towards the coast of Greece.

* * *

They made landfall at the first strip of coast they saw since they could hardly sail into a harbour like this, just a ragtag bunch of former slaves, clearly marked by their scarred wrists, on a merchant’s galley, and no captain to speak of.

The group of sailors set sail again after some of them had left the ship to sail on for Corinth, and the group now found the nearest road.

It was a two day’s march to Athens.

In their relief and joy they joked about each other; how they all looked like storks as they had become so accustomed to the weight of the manacles that they were all lifting their feet ridiculously high as they walked.

But then, shortly after noon on the second day, the walls of Athens came into view, and as one they went still, some of them crying in silent joy, Iolaus included.

After one last round of farewells the group of former slaves finally parted, all of them eager to make their way home, either because they lived in or close to Athens or because they had to hit the roads leading there.

Luke and Iolaus stayed together. They walked towards the lower marketplace, where Iolaus had met the people who had made him drunk enough they had been able to sell him. Maybe they had even slipped something into his drink. He had no idea how long he had been gone, but he was sure that Hercules and Jason were no longer around.

On their way there he deftly nicked three purses, and while Luke shot him some stern looks – very stern due to his impressive eyebrows – he didn’t say anything as he was fully aware that they needed money to eat and clothe themselves properly.

They bought used clothes at one stall and shoes at another. They also bought some simple pilaf with cooked peas and diced, cooked eggs which they ate very cautiously, as they had been half-starved for so long and had only eaten hard tack and smoked, dried fish. It tasted like manna and made both of them almost cry with pleasure.

Then they looked at each other and laughed.

Their laughter ebbed off and died when their eyes met. Luke was the first to look away and he cleared his throat before asking what they should do now.

“One thing,” Iolaus said and strode forward with the air of someone who had a clear purpose. “I will go to the nearest bathhouse and get properly clean again.”  
“You know, that sounds like the best idea I have heard in a long time.”

The nearest bathhouse was not so far away and Iolaus booked a whole tub in a separate room. They didn’t have the means to book two, but Luke assured him he didn’t mind sharing.

Having been in so close proximity to each other, living, eating, sleeping and even taking care of bodily functions cheek to jowl for so long a time, they were in no way uncomfortable in each other’s presence when naked. So they just undressed and Iolaus reached for a bucket and the soap and asked Luke if he should wash his hair.

Since Luke was taller by a good bit he turned around and knelt down, and Iolaus lathered the soap into the thick, dark, curly mane. Then he rinsed the soap out by the means of pouring a bucket of water over Luke’s head, and after that they exchanged positions for Luke to return the favour.

Then Iolaus took great pleasure to use the shaving equipment he had asked for to get rid of the terrible mat of hair on his face. Clean and shaven, he finally felt like himself again.

Sliding into the tub filled with hot water had both men moan ecstatically. For a moment they just sat there and soaked up the warmth, letting it seep into muscles that hadn’t been allowed to relax for so long, and they closed their eyes in bliss.

They hardly moved for a long time, but then Luke shifted, and their thighs brushed. Both men went very still at that sensation.

“Apologies,” Luke said softly and made an attempt to move away.  
“What?” Iolaus opened his eyes with a smile.  
“I cannot imagine you like to be touched right now.”

Iolaus’ smile widened. “I don’t mind. Not the touching bit. It’s who’s doing the touching, but I’ve always been a bit choosy about that.”  
Luke managed a smile.  
“But... I don’t mind you. At all.”

The two looked at each other.

“You clean up very nicely,” Iolaus said in an attempt to break the suddenly heavy silence.  
“You are beautiful,” Luke all but blurted out, and then looked as if he wanted nothing more than to stuff the words back into his mouth.

For a moment Iolaus wanted to feel that the blunder was funny, but could only think it endearing. And looking at him now, he realised he felt the same. Luke was a beautiful man, in a feral way. He wondered what the mane of curls would feel like when dry, and if the locks were as springy as they looked.

The hazel eyes were resting on him with a calm and slightly questioning glance. Beautiful eyes.

Neither of them made a conscious decision about closing his eyes and leaning forward.

Their lips touched in a shy, hesitant kiss, and again, soft and almost questioning. Then Iolaus lifted his hand and rested the tips of his fingers on Luke’s cheek, and one of Luke’s hands wandered up his arm to come to rest at the back of his neck. It stayed there for a moment, and Iolaus didn’t resist when that hand urged his head a little forward.

They kissed again, bolder this time, and with the next one, they opened their lips to each other. Iolaus ran one hand down the broad and furred chest as Luke pulled him closer, and the heat between them intensified, their breath mingling with soft, urgent moans.

They continued to kiss for a while, but their breaths came increasingly faster now and their hands trailed across each other’s bodies in firmer, more demanding touches.

Then Iolaus broke the kiss with a small gasp and straddled Luke’s thighs in one swift motion, making the water slosh gently around them. Slinging his arms around Luke’s neck he rested his forehead against the taller man’s, and after a moment, the latter unfroze and closed his arms around Iolaus in turn.

“This isn’t a bad thing where you come from?” Iolaus asked a little breathlessly.  
“No,” Luke replied with a soft smile and shook his head.  
“Good,” Iolaus said with a smile, and kissed him again.

With their bodies now touching as well their kisses quickly turned to passionate and as Iolaus moved closer, turned to hungry and almost needy. Hands were more groping now than roaming, fingers digging into skin, and with increasingly heavy moans they moved their bodies closer together so their cocks finally touched. Then Luke moved one hand down Iolaus’ back and across his hips to close it around both their cocks, and Iolaus broke the kiss and dropped his head onto Luke’s shoulder with a moan.

“Your hand,” Luke whispered, his lips grazing Iolaus’ ear, the hot breath grazing his cheek.

Iolaus nodded and moved one of his hands down to join Luke’s. It increased the tightness and friction and they both moved now, thrusting into their joined hands with urgent gasps and moans interspersed with hungry kisses.

They reached the point of no return almost at the same time and they came almost together too, Iolaus only a single heartbeat after Luke, and the white clouds billowed up and mingled in the water between them.

Their foreheads resting against each other they were breathing heavily with their eyes closed, until Iolaus suddenly said: “I think it’s time we get out of the water.”

They looked up and at each other, then burst out into shaky, joyful laughter. After sharing another kiss they climbed out of the tub, and rinsed off with another bucket of water.

They dried each other, hands moving gently across each other’s bodies, and after dressing they left the bathhouse again, walking so close their shoulders touched.

On their way to the inn where Iolaus had stayed that fateful day so long ago – how long he couldn’t even say – he nicked another two purses so they could book themselves a room for the night and an evening meal together with a breakfast. It wasn’t until after they had eaten and were up in their room in the bed together that they finally started talking.

Iolaus told him about the day he got captured, and the men who had made him drunk, or had maybe even drugged him. He also told him about his friends and the academy and that he had to go back there.

“And what about you?” Iolaus asked then. “You are not from here by the way you talk.”  
“No,” Luke answered slowly. “I am not. I am from far, far away...” He faltered. “And I cannot get home. When I was captured I lost... they took the artefact I need to return to... my realm, you could call it.”

Iolaus had no idea what to say. In the end, he could only ask: “So you will never be able to go home again?”  
“I do not know,” Luke replied. “Maybe I can find it again. Until then, I am stuck here.”  
“With me.” Iolaus said in an attempt to lighten the mood.  
It worked, and Luke’s dark and fierce scowl turned into as smile. “I could have done worse, you know.”

The smile softened, and he pulled Iolaus close into a kiss. They fell asleep in a tight embrace.

To be woken up with the door exploding into their room.

“IOLAUS!”

Iolaus shot upright and for a heartbeat he had no idea if he was still dreaming. Then Hercules had reached the bed and pulled him into an embrace as if he weighed nothing.

“Iolaus...” He whispered in a shaky voice. “By all the gods...”  
“Hercules...” Iolaus whispered back.  
“Gods, Iolaus... where have you been? Where have you been all the time? I just kept running to Athena’s shrine asking for a sign and then she suddenly tells me you’re on your way to where we lost you and…oh Iolaus!”

He almost squeezed all breath out of him until finally, almost unwillingly, Hercules let go. Only then did they notice Jason who was staring at the bed, his swords extended before him.

“Iolaus...” He said in a low voice. “What is that?”

Iolaus followed his gaze and saw Luke who was growling at Jason, his eyes a bright amber and his canines long and sharp.

“That is Luke,” Iolaus said firmly and stepped between Luke and Jason’s blades. “And whatever else he is, he is also the one who saved me and brought me home.”

Jason lowered his blades again and after a moment, shoved them back into their sheaths on his back. Luke slowly relaxed as well; his canines shrunk back into his mouth and his eyes turned back to hazel.

“Iolaus...” Hercules closed both hands around his friend’s shoulders again. “Where have you been all that time?”  
“How long is... all that time?” Iolaus asked cautiously.  
“The better part of three months.” Hercules shook his head and wiped his eyes. “We found out that you had been drinking with strangers and that the men had dragged you away, and then the next day we found your clothes in one of the stalls in the marketplace...” He wiped his eyes again. “And we tried to find out anything else, but you were just... gone…”

“They sold me as a galley slave,” Iolaus said in a low voice. “I’ve been pulling oars until we managed to escape.”  
“A galley slave?” Hercules took one of his hands and looked at the heavy calluses on his palms. “I will kill them all.”  
“You’re too late,” Iolaus replied. “Luke already did that.”

Hercules looked up at Luke and took a deep breath. “I’m forever in your debt for saving my best friend. He is as close as a brother to me.”  
Luke nodded.  
“If I can repay you in any way...”  
“Maybe,” Luke said cautiously.  
“In what way?”

“Guys...” Iolaus interrupted them cautiously. “Can we discuss this... after breakfast, maybe?”  
“Iolaus...” Hercules shook his head with an affectionate if exasperated smile.  
“What? I’ve been living on smoked herring and hard tack for months!”  
“Can’t have that,” Jason said and slapped his back. “Let’s eat, and then we head home.”

“Home...” Iolaus whispered. 

But then he blinked and looked at Luke who had left the bed and was staring out of the window as he buckled his belt. “Luke,” he said softly and walked to his side. “I will not leave you.”  
“But you have a home here.”  
“It can be your home.”  
Luke turned around and raised his eyebrows.  
“Or at least until you find your way home.”

“We can’t just drag him into the academy,” Hercules said. “Chairon won’t be happy.”  
“I don’t care,” Iolaus said. “I go where he goes.”  
“Iolaus,” Luke began, but Iolaus spun around.  
“I owe you my life, and more than that. You kept me sane and enabled me to hold on to my will to survive. I will not abandon you. We will see you home, Luke.”

They looked at each other, hazel eyes into sapphire ones, and after a moment Luke smiled and closed his arms around Iolaus’ midriff.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Hercules and Jason exchanged a look that was more than baffled as the two leaned in towards each other, oblivious of anything else.

“Uhm... right,” Hercules said brightly and Luke and Iolaus jumped away from each other. “Breakfast and... ah... then we talk particulars.”

Luke and Iolaus looked at each other and nodded, then looked at Hercules and nodded again.

* * *

They left Athens before noon that day and headed north.

“But are you really sure it is a good idea to have Luke in the academy?” Jason asked. “He is a skin changer.”  
“So?” Iolaus bit into a peach he had plucked from a tree they had passed not so long ago. He would never in his life be able to eat another apple.  
“He turns into a huge wolf-like beast,” Jason went on, in the tone one uses to explain things to a child or a half-wit. “And Chairon is half horse.”  
“I don’t eat horses,” Luke said. “They taste dreadful.”

Three heads snapped around.

Luke hastily lifted his arms in defence. “Don’t tell him I said that!”

For a second all four of them just stared, then they burst out laughing.


End file.
